Category Archives: Article

The Hidden Side of Sex Offences

Article, biography, General Interest, , , , ,

As a kid who spent three years in a Catholic boarding school I was exposed to an underworld of dark sex offenses without realising what was going on around me. When I think back on it now, it was quite scary…

In 1967, due to some family problems – a book of stories on it’s own – and with moving the family home from Sylvania to Kogarah, it was decided that instead of sending me to James Cook High School, I would be taken out of the public school system, and sent to a private school. Mind you, being the era it was, I didn’t have a lot of say in this decision.

As a late applicant – and Protestant – to Marist Brothers St Gregory’s Agricultural College at Campbelltown, I had to wait for all the Catholic applications to be processed first, to see if there were any vacancies available. I was to eventually spend three years there, attaining my School Certificate un 1969. There are two events that occurred in my time there that are quire disturbing, and probably part of the current investigations and Royal Commissiom into child sexual abuse.

Being a boarding school, we all spent our mornings and nights in large open dormitories – just called dorms. Brother Brian was the Dorm Master of Dorn 2, and had an enclosed bedroom just off the entry to the dorm. He was also the Instructor for the school swimming team. As with most school swimming teams, we had our own swimming trunks – burgundy and blue – especially made. With the arrival of the swim trunks, along came their time for distribution. It took me a while to work out what was going on. As I lay in bed after lights-out, there would be a stream of kids on the swimming team individually visiting Brother Brian in his room at night. Evidently, Brother was giving the boys specialised fitting of their swim trunks, getting them to strip off, and try the trunks on to “ensure the correct fit”. Shortly after this event, Brother Brian mysteriously disappeared…transferred to somewhere or other. I had just, unwittingly, observed my first instance of sexual abuse. In keeping with the era, no explanation was given, and the incident was never discussed.

Being a Protestant – Congregational – in a Catholic environment, and voluntarily not exempting myself from Mass , rosary, Station of the Cross. Retreats etc, eventually the religion rubbed off on me. Being raised in the simplicity of Protestantism, I found the rituals, devotions and customs of the Catholic church overwhelming, and in 1969 I converted.

Reverend Father Peter Comensoli was the Parish Priest of St John the Evangelist Church in Campbelltown, and St Gregory’s College Chaplain. As such, he baptized me in the college chapel, and in fact bestowed on me his Christian name Peter as my baptismal name, and later that year I was confirmed in the Parish Church in Campbelltown. Yet another name – Francis – to add to my collection. Father Comensoli spent a lot of time at the college, and was very friendly to all the boys.

So you can only imagine my total lack of surprise, when watching the news many, many years later, at seeing Father Cominsole being arrested for molesting his altar boys.

Both incidents made me realise just how close I could have been to being a victim of sexual abuse myself!

http://www.abc.net.au/7.30/content/2013/s3810321.htm
http://www.brokenrites.org.au/drupal/node/194
http://www.christianchat.com.au/christian-chat-articles/1996/4/16/police-were-slow-to-act-on-clergy-sex-assault-claim/

Please – if you have been a victim of sexual abuse, or know of instances of sexual abuse please report it to authorities.

Tim Alderman (C) 2014

  

Daily (Or When The Mood Takes Me) Gripe: The World; The Country

Article, , , ,

What is it with media these days! They have always been prone to exaggeration, to embracing “the big whopper”, but this current usage of the terms “The World….or The Country…” is now at the stage of true annoyance!

“The photo of the Royal baby George that The World has waited for.”

“The photo’s from the celebrity wedding (insert name) that The World has waited for!”

” The video of Beyonce That Everyone is excited to see!”

“The ebola fear that has terrified The Country”

“The shots of our Princess Mary that The Country has been waiting for!”

Well fuck me…I must be a totally boring moron…none of these things interest, excite or terrify me…or millions of other people!

Every time I hear it now, I cringe! But of course it is modern media, so what else should I expect.

This is the dumbing down of news that the current media indulges in. The theory seems to be that if they say something often enough, no one will notice it. Wrong! Some of us do! This is tied into giving things like celebrity weddings prominent places in news reporting ahead of items that really do have importance. There was a time when these news snippets – especially anything regarding Celebrity – would have been at the tail end of the news, if indeed mentioned at all. In this perverse world we live in, Celebrity takes prominence over all else. It is a very sad indictment of the world we live in. Plagues happen; wars are being fought; people are being murdered; earthquakes and volcanoes are destroying peoples lives. But Beyonce is dancing! This is all about making trivial issues more important than they are!

Look at the state of our jokingly named Current Affairs! Tradies ripping people off; neighbourhood disputes; how many germs and bacteria live on a kitchen sponge; people ripping off social security; someones home being trashed by tenants. In my book, Tracy Trimshaw has lost all her reporters credentials by reporting on this rubbish! Could explain why The Project has a huge following.

I’d like to think that real news would become real news again, but I think disappointment will be my lot.

That being the case, i’d at least like to hear news readers and reporters tell us that…..Some People would be interested in photos or videos of aroyalty and Celebrity…NOT the whole world or country!

Believe it or not…there are still some intelligent people around!

Tim Alderman
Copyright 2014

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Reclaimations

Article, General Interest, Health Information, , , ,

Getting older is one of those things that seems to have caught up with me very quickly. One minute I was 40, then 50 and now at 57 rapidly approaching 60. I’m not complaining. I’ve survived AIDS (with a couple of disabilities but nothing to hold me back), and when all is said and done I am really enjoying the experience of getting older, the quietening down of life and the intuitiveness that seems to come with it. HIV is no longer something I feel concerned about – in fact, it is very much a backwater in my life. Everything is under control, and has been for a long time, so as far as I am concerned it is no longer an issue. It is just something that is, and is so integrated into my life that it is not a seperate issue.

However, there are aspects of ageing that I have not liked. I may be approaching 60 but there is much about the contemporary world that I love – like the latest music (and I still collect dance music) and technology and all the wonders it brings for starteres. I still like to dress well (though I try to avoid the mutton dressed as lamb scenario), I still groom myself well and like the fact that despite my age I can still look pretty good when I hit the streets. However, 12 months ago I started to notice things about my body that were in stark contrast to what I liked to think and feel about myself. Having been blessed with good genes that have allowed me to keep all my hair (most of it in its original black shade) and for most of my life a slim profile I was disconcerted to find that gravity was finally having its wicked way and changing – for the worst – my body shape. I was becoming flabby with a very discernable spare tire waistline, flabby tits, mishapen arse and bad posture. I was actually starting to look so “old” that it was starting to depress me and really knocked my self-esteem around. It also didn’t fit in with how I dressed and groomed myself and I was really aware of the fact that I wouldn’t go out in anything that clung to me, or in anyway showed off my body shape. To make matters worse, I started to go up in clothing sizes (from SM to M in shirts, and from 32” trousers and shorts to 34”. I wasn’t happy! Other nasty things that were happening were finding myself sitting on the edge of the bed to put on trousers and shorts, having my partner comment on how bad my posture was getting (that was a real “shit – is it” moment), and the doctor had started me on cholesterol meds, which was an additional pill that I really wasn’t happy about having to take.

Like others that I know, when I lived in the Eastern Suburbs in the 80’s and 90’s, I made a decision (despite the fashion for toned bodies at the time) to avoid going to the gym. They were places full of gay guys who were there not to get fit but to mould themselves into an image of what it was preceived that gay men looked like. They posed, preened, plucked, depilated and fake-tanned, and when they went oiut to the bars, only ever hung around with, and picked up, guys who looked like themselves. I made sure I hung around with the scrawny brigade so as not to feel out of place. It was a form of body fascism that I disliked then, and still do. However, a move to the outer edges of the Inner West brought about a change in my thinking and perceptions. With the body rapidly getting out of shape, with my self-esteem taking a beating, and with the prospect of 60 looming (and a potentially rickity ride into an unhealthy mature years) it was time to do something about it, so it was off to the gym in Marrickville. The fact that I added the word ‘gym’ to my vocabulary was a good start.

I loved – and still do – the gym, which sort of came as a bit oif a shock to me. From the word go I was made to feel comfortable, and a lot of the fallacies that I attributed to going to the gym were dispelled. To start with, no one else cares about what you are doing, and nobody is actually watching and assessing you (except yourself). Everyone else is too busy doing their own thing, and are too much in their own world to care about what you are up to. I had an initial assessment with a personal trainer who in no way criticised how I
looked, but she did help me to set some goals – the major ones being that I wanted to get fit, I wanted to loose excess fat, generally tighten my whole body up, fix my posture and inprove my general health. I wanted to reclaim my hips and arse, both of which had long ago disappeared. In other words, I had a determination to transform myself. And at 72kg, I wanted to do all this without losing weight, as weight wasn’t the problem. The other encouraging thing I found about just going to a local gym was the number of other mature aged men and women who were there, and really working hard and doing their best to get fit and healthy. There is now a few older role models around to encourage us to do something about being fit and older. Actors like Rob Lowe (God, how hot is that man), Rick Springfield (who despite his demons looks fabulous for someone in his 60’s), and dare I say it – Tony Abbott (hate his politics but admire him for his committment to fitness) – have given us a new way of looking at ourselves as we get older.

So, having set goals, and having been given a regime to follow, it was off to the beginners studio for a 10 week starters program. The first week…I suffered. Every muscle ached, and I looked at the piss-weak weights I was starting with, and wondering if I was ever going to be able to do things at the heavier end. And don’t think it doesn’t get tedious! Doing the same routines over and over again can get very boring. I started to vary things myself, made a lot of changes to what had been set out for me and found that helped me to get through the boredom barrier. I started going three days a week, for 1 hour each visit. And I bloody worked hard! Nothing was going to deter me from my goals. Within 7 weeks of starting, the miracles began. I was using a lot of resistance equipment, and found that the weights started to increase. The spare tire didn’t just reduce – it disappeared. I noticed my pecs tightening up and starting to show a firm profile, muscles appeared in my arms. My energy levels also increased, as did my flexibilty. My self-esteem started to go through the roof, and in turn this promted me to work harder, to really start to challenge myself. At the end of the 10 weeks, I looked fantastic. I couldn’t believe just how different I looked and felt. It was noticeable at the gym how regular I was and how hard I worked, and the gym staff gave me a lot of encouragement.

So, after the 10 weeks in the beginners studio it was time for another assessment, and a harder program of work, starting in what I jokingly called “the big boys room” where all the weights and serious resistence equipment are. I continued to flog myself three days a week (still for a total of three hours a week), and the changes continued. I was still having some problems getting a flat stomach (I wasn’t after a six-pack…I could probably get one but at my age it would be a constant battle to maintain it) so the tweaking of our diet at home started. Now, I’m sure everyone knows from my last column that I cook, so doing a diet tweak wasn’t a big issue as I knew that I had the recipes to over-ride any chance of blandness or boredom. I should point out that I don’t approve of diets, especially fad ones, but I do believe that you can create a healthy diet for yourself without going to extremes, without adding supplements, and without cutting out carbs and proteins. Your body needs these things to function properly – it is all a matter of proportion and balance. We cut out a lot of fatty foods, a lot of sugar (I have a terrible sweet tooth so this wasn’t easy), and increased the amount of raw vegetables, fish and poultry in our diet. This helped a lot, as well as a lot of repititions on the Ultimate Abdominal machine at the gym, and a lot of suspension work (whereby you suspend yourself, and lift your legs as high as you can for as long as you can, or hold your legs out at a 90° angle – you can really feel the pull on your abs). So I pulled, and pushed and strained and grunted through the main weight floor of the gym for the next 3 months.

By this stage, I have to say that I was starting to find it harder and harder to get myself to the gym to go through the routines. I realised that I needed to add some sort of variety to my program, so at New Years weekend this year I decided to do my first class. I looked at all the alternatives, and assessed what I thought I could do, and couldn’t do. I have done yoga before (and enjoyed it) but felt that it wasn’t dynamic enough to maintain the body profile I was aiming for. I still haven’t tried pilates, but it is on my list. Anything that involved balance was out (I have peripheral neuopathy…the numb type, not the painful. This means I have no feeling in my feet and ankles), anything involving too much co-ordination was out (I’m unco-ordinated at the best of times), and anything done in dark rooms – such as Spin – was out, as I’m partially blind and have night-blindness. So, this left me with Body Pump, a class that involves work with weights, and is very dynamic and very muscle and cardio-orientated. You really push your heart rate up doing these classes. I found I really loved Pump, and have stuck with it right through to now. I avoid lunges (for balance reasons), and do squats instead, which means a double session of squats every class, which can really push you to your limits, especially when you have 25- 28 kgs of weight sitting on your upper back to add to the challenge. The routine (all Les Mills classes are done in most gyms these days, so it doesn’t matter where you go, you will always know what to expect from a class) changes every three months, so just as you are getting bored with it, it changes. So, I started doing two morning classes a week (on Monday and Friday, and usually the token male in the class at that time of day), and did one day a week in the weight room to work whatever muscles didn’t get worked in the class. Having just moved from Sydney to Brisbane, I found the break in routine, and to a new gym and environment a bit unsettling.I have just got back into my two Pump classes, and will probably get back to my resistence work sometime in the next couple of weeks.

So, what has the end result of all this been. To be honest, the result has been staggering. I still look in the mirror and think to myself “Is that really you?”. I have my hips and arse back big time, and can walk around in a singlet without feeling embarrassed. I have pecs, I have muscled arms and legs. My posture has improved, as has my energy levels and my flexibility. I have gone off my cholesterol meds. My self esteem has gone through the roof, and I can honestly say that I feel absolutely fantastic, and that is reflected in how I look and dress. I have come to realise that there is more to me than I ever thought there was – I can set goals and challenges and achieve them, I can push myself beyond my limits when I have a reason to, and that I can establish routines and stick to them when I have an end objective. I now feel that I can go into my elder years truly fit and healthy, and that in many ways that is going to help cut back the risks that I would have faced without going through this metamorphisis. I can move forward knowing that I am still flexible, that high blood pressure and cholesterol aren’t going to plague me, and that problems that result from being over-weight have pretty well been eliminated.

What would I recommend to other guys my age? If you smoke…STOP! If you have a bad diet…FIX IT – it’s not rocket science. Don’t think that walking the dog is all you need to do – if you are over-weight, do something about it. Look at the long-term, not the short. It is not about having the body beautiful (though it helps) it is about being fit and healthy, and prolonging your prospects for good health and wellbeing as you progress through the years. Don’t think (like I did) that looking fit and healthy is just for the young. The flow-on affects of a good exercise routine are endless, both in your public and private life. Look good and feel good – you’ll thank yourself for it.

Tim Alderman.
Copyright 2010

  

Eat To Your Health

Article, Health Information, Nutrition, , ,

In my last column I talked about starting out at the gym as a way to start getting your fitness on-track, and since that was written there have been several articles out in HIV journals stating that diet and exercise are important for guys (and girls) in an ageing HIV population to promote a longer and healthier road to old age, and as a way of fighting off problems associated with obesity and bad diet. As a population in general, obesity is a big problem, especially as we get older, and lazier. One of the things that prompted me to get off my arse and start doing something about my health was observing people around me who were my age or older, and telling myself “that is NOT how I want to end up” as an older person. I don’t want to be fat, and wear my trousers up around my nipples; I don’t want to be stooped and crippled, relying on Zimmer frames and mobility scooters; I don’t want to have to rely on others to help me get about and just get through my everyday life; and I don’t want to be shuffling around and taking all day to move from one place to another. I saw a LOT of this in elderly people, and for me…it’s just not on!

Okay, so hopefully we have prompted some of you to start looking after your weight and mobillity. I brushed over diet in the last article, but in reality exercise and diet go hand-in-hand, even more so as you get older. It is such an easy matter to tweak your diet from unhealthy to healthy that I often wonder why people think it is so hard. There is very little that you have to give up in a balanced diet, though the emphasis does change from one of ‘oh, that is too much trouble’ to one of ‘okay, I’ll give that a go’ if you know you will achieve positive results.

I would like to think that we had all moved on from the diet we were presented with as we grew up, especially those of us brought up with the “meat and three veg” mentality of the 50’s and 60’s, though I do know of guys my age who still stick to that prescription, and have NEVER ventured outside the box. The move from ‘bad’ eating to healthier eating for me occurred with the discovery of Asian cuisine.The entire Asian approach to cooking (despite being a bit preparation – intensive, though fast to cook) with using all the proteins, plus fresh herbs and vegetables and sauces that were both tasty and healthy appealed to me from the very beginning. It is strange how my foods have changed over time, from a heavily red meat orientated style of cooking to a more poultry, fish and almost, on accasions, vegetarian styled cuisine. This was never intentional, it just seemed to happen, especially enhanced by the new exercise regimes I was putting myself through. As I mentioned in my last piece, I have a severe sweet tooth. I am one of those people who reads the dessert menu first in a restuarant, then decide what else to order from there. I have a weakness for potato chips, donuts, finger buns, cheese, chocolate and little cakey things from cafe’s. Have I given all this up in the rush for a better diet? Not on your life, though I do eat them in moderation these days. I have had finger buns twice this year – quite a severe deprivation for me, though I can’t say the same for chocolate. Full of antioxidants (I love really dark, bitter chocolate) is my excuse. So, what have I done to improve my diet? Nothing terribly radical, I have to say. To start with, I have never really followed diets, though did give the CSIRO diet a good bash, though I found it a bit too heavy with protein for my evolving tastes. I have to say it did work, and both myself & my partner lost weight while on it. I am currently personally promoting the Weight-Watchers recipe books, which are available from most newsagents. They started putting recipe books out about 10 years ago (originally only available through the WW organisation), and even then I was impressed with the variety and range of their recipes. I don’t follow their points system, though you can if you like – I just like theirrecipes, and they cover everything from breakfasts, to light meals, to main meals, desserts and snacks. They are one organisation that has moved with the times. There is a heavy emphasis on vegetables in their recipes which I personally like. So, what else can you do to help improve your eating habits? Eat a lot of fresh, raw leafy vegetables. With summer coming on, our diet will shortly go almost totally salad. It isn’t boring – there are many recipe books around now that just concentrate on healthy and interesing salads. Cut down on the amount of sugar and fats that you use for cooking. Use “Splenda” if you require a sweetener (it can be used for baking): substitute wholemeal plain & SR flour in baking: swap over to other oils for cooking such as Azalea, rice bran or grapeseed oils; use yoghurt and oil as substitutes for milk or cream in cooking; don’t overcook vegetables – vege cooking is one area where microwave ovens are great. Vege’s should still be a bit crisp when served; dry fry where possible, or grill; gives things like tofu a go – ignore the bad press, and make decisions for yourself (though I still hate soy milk). Cut back on coffee and drink tea instead. Limit alcohol consumption without going ‘dry’. All this will not cause miracles, but will be a good start and will give you the impetus to trial things yourself. A good, well-balanced diet will mean that you shouldn’t have to take supplements, though it seems to be very fashionable to do so. It is true that some ARV’s do cause depletion of certain vitamins and minerals in the body, though discuss this with a doctor or dietician before starting up on any supplement regimes. Don’t do things just because your friends do!

Now, for the big question! Do I believe in Superfoods? The short answer is…yes! The term “Superfoods” is used to denote foods that are packed full of nutrient and cover the gammit from exotic to mundane. The latest list includes Acai and Goji berries (it is well-reported that ALL berries are good for you and jam-packed full of goodies to help your skin, brain and heart, as wel, as helping to lower cholesterol; Coconut water which doesn’t taste half bad, and comes with some yummy additives these days – considered fashionable, especially amongt gym junkies; Probiotic cheese though I’d rather stick to a good sharp cheddar or a gooey brie myself; Omega-3-rich milk though there are other ways to get Omega-3, such as fish or fish oil capsules. If you do go to gym regularly, taking these fish oil capsules can help with your heart health as well as joint protection (not to mention assisting memory); Maitake mushrooms (yes, you read that right), though mushrooms in general are very good for you; Vine-ripened tomatoes, though the health benefits of tomato-rich diets are well known now – and how can you hate tomatoes!; Blue-Green Algae (Spirulina) is one I’ll pass on, thanks!; Yerba Mate (a South American tea) is something I’ve tried, but haven’t developed a taste for. There is quite a ritual involved in preparing it; Pomergranate juice expensive but oh so gorgeous and addictive it;s worth going into credit card debt for; and brazil nuts, which fortunately for me come in blocks of chocolate, so yeah, I eat them. I highly recommend you doing some internet research on superfoods, then pick out the ones you enjoy and include them in your diet.

So, the rules for good healthy eating are:
• Keep it fresh – fresh vegetables are not expensive, so stock up and learn to be creative. USE RECIPE BOOKS, don’t just steam and boil things…boring!
• Don’t deprive yourself of treats, just cut back on how often you have them. Keep health bars or trail mix in the cupboard for when you get those junk cravings – it works.
• If you get that ‘do I have to eat that’ thought when you are cooking a meal, then don’t cook it. If you don’t enjoy it you are not going to want to eat it. Nothing worste than making meals a chore.
• Cut back on fats and sugar – don’t cut them out, just rethink them. Remember that fruit juices are not always a healthy, sugar-free option.
• Don’t overcook foods like proteins and vegetables – you cook all the nourishment out of them by overcooking.
• Shout yourself a take-away occasionally – even I go to Hungry Jacks 2-3 times a year.
• Don’t cut out carbs and proteins from your diet – your body really needs them to function properly. If like me you go to gym early in the day, have a bacon and egg toastie after, and don’t feel guilty about it. Without the carb & protein hit you will go home and hit the wall. You burn a LOT of calories when you exercise.
• Eat as many raw vegetables as you like – they are so good for you.
• Don’t knock frozen and canned vegetables and pulses. Most vege’s are snap-frozen, and are often healthier than cooking them yourself. If you buy tinned beans and lentils, rinse them thoroughly before eating.
• Look at vegetarian options – you may be surprised. It is no longer the 70’s and 80’s, and slabs of eggplant with a melange of bland steamed vegetables.
• Buy wholegrain bread instead of white. Your body needs to work to get through all those seeds, so you feel full for longer. Also, rye breads and malted breads.
• I still like my full-cream milk, but there are plenty of options now. Don’t get caught up with all the trendy additives etc in milk now – these are things that are present in a balanced diet, and they really shouldn’t be in milk

Whatever you do, enjoy your food. It is one of life’s pure pleasures. But, like sex, think before you put it in your mouth!

Tim Alderman
Copyright 2014

  

Disclosure

Article, Gay Interest, HIV/AIDS, , ,

My first disclosure was probably the easiest.

It was just after testing positive to HIV in 1985, when testing begun. It was done anonymously through the Albin St Clinic, and took a nerve-wracking two weeks for results to come in. Despite saying I probably wasn’t positive, my mind was saying otherwise, and the latter proved correct. So, my first disclosure, along with a lot of others guys who were undergoing the same process was at the bar at “The Oxford”, and was to a group of friends, some of who were also HIV+, some HIV-, and some who either didn’t know or didn’t want to know. Disclosure was imnportant at that time, as with a two-year survival period dangling there like a sword of Damocles over ones head, it was important to let everyone know that the supposed death sentence had been passed, then move on. It gave time for it to sink in both with myself and the friends I was closest to. They now knew what to expect – we had already experienced the quick decline of other HIV+ friends, and knew that the future was not something to look forward to. So let’s party! It was, I have to say, easier than I thought it would be to disclose.

The most recent time I disclosed was to a gym buddy and friend when we weree out for dinnerv one night. He asked me what I was doing these days, and I replied that I was doing some freelance writing for a couple of HIV magazines, and had been doing it for some time. That then led on to a conversation about how things had changed and you rarely heard of anyone dying from HIV these days. There was really no reaction from him at all – it was just a friendly chat about what we were up to, and HIV didn’t seem to register as anything devious or insideous in any way whatsoever.

In the interim between the first disclosure and latest, things haven’t quite always been that easy. Generally when cruising the bars for trade, I used to disclose as a way of getting rid of guys who couldn’t handle it, thus getting rid of the dross. It was also a way of picking up other HIV+ guys so that use of condoms could be dropped. We both knew where we stood. Though there was one negative guy who said it wasn’t a problem – at least until we were home and the jeans were down, thankfully at my place. He baulked, started to throw a drama and found the front door being held open to hasten his exit. That is the one and only person I have ever thrown out of my home.

The second problem disclosure – at work – was a big problem. Not for me, not for my staff, not for most of upper management. However, for one area manager it was a big problem and he bullied and harrassed me until I decided it really wasn’t worth the hassle anymore. I gave in notice, but didn’t let him off the hook that easily. I ensured that I gave notice at the most inconvenient place, at the most inconvenient time that would cause him the most hassles and problems. He didn’t speak to me for the two weeks of my notice period, and he didn’t say goodbye. Yeah, I was really upset about that. Not! I still have no regrets about disclosing on that job – I did the right thing by my staff, and if it cost me my position and my job, perhaps I didn’t want to be there anyway.

I have disclosed mid-fuck, as nothing had been said about condoms (we were at his place), and at the moment the evil deed was to be consummated I yelled out at him that I was HIV+ – several times, and it didn’t even cause a glitch in the proceedings. He disclosed nothing, and to this day I have no knowledge of whether he was pos or neg, though I did assume he was positive. It was all a bit too casual and nonchalant for him not to be.

As far as my everyday life goes these days with neighbours and new friends and the ilk I tend not to say anything, nor do I see any need to. Like a lot of people with health issues I
consider it my business, and it’s not as if I look ill or anything. It doesn’t affect my diet, my pill taking is done in private, and I just want life to toddle on without any hassles. As far as my local community goes I am just Joe Blow from next door or over the road, and that’s how I want it to stay.

Tim Alderman
Copyright 2010.

  

Daily (Or When The Mood Takes me) Gripe: The Great Aussie Institution – The Barbecue

Article

There was a time when, hearing the words ‘you are invited to a barbie’ would make me physically cringe. It’s got nothing to do with not being True Blue, nor is it about snobbery. What it conjured up in my mind was images of steak sacrificed at the altar of Weber, with all it’s juices cooked out and ending up as tough as old boots; chops – which have no meat on them at the best of times – grilled to this black lump on a bone, and sausages so charred and blackened that given a blind taste test, you would have said they were charcoal flavour. In fact, if asked what flavour any sort of supermarket sausages – where they ALWAYS came from – were, you would have had to say ‘tomato sauce’, as that was the only way they would ever have had any flavour.

This was not my idea of fun eating, and is really a terrible thing to do with good food. I’ve never quite got my head around the whole concept of an inedible meal, served up with a bland salad of iceberg lettuce, tomatoes and cucumber (yawns!) and bread rolls that had been too long in the sun and buttered from this pool of yellow sludge– all captured on a flimsy cardboard plate balanced on your knee. No wonder the dog got a good feed! If you weren’t sneaking it to him to avoid eating it yourself, the same plate would quickly disintegrate as you tried to saw your way through the steak with plastic cutlery, giving the avaricious hound access to the whole meal – deliberate or not!

And what is it with these supposed “cooks” that as soon as they are standing in front of the six-burner-with-attached-wok-burner–and -rice cooker-and multitasking -processor-and-bull-castrating-device they suddenly consider themselves Heston Blumenthal – a not unlikely image considering the amount of smoke issuing from the cooking apparatus! Since when has sacrificing food been the domain of professional chefs! Yeah, right! Thank you…..NEVER! With tittie motif apron – an amusing item provided by said cooks children on Fathers Day – standing centre, waving and clacking tongs and a can of incendiary fuel to hand to get the flames high enough to singe eyebrows and sacrifice virgins! With a demonic gleam in his eye, he savagely throws meat offerings to Weber…and Weber is much pleased as it hisses and crackles in delight. The whole tableau is horrifying! For fuck sake…turn the flames down and COOK, not ruin the food!

Okay, I am a bit of a food snob, but I didn’t flog my arse off at TAFE, squeezing a 12-month course in commercial cooking into 6 months – usually starting at 7.00 in the morning – to see food ruined in the tradition of barbecuing. Thankfully, evidently enough people got sick of it to see it turned in to a new form of cuisine, raising the bar and making the great Aussie barbecue a tradition to be proud of, instead of shunned and delegated to the world of beer swilling and football.

When we went to buy our current barbecue I had an exact type snd size in mind. I am not – obviously – a great advocate of this style of cooking, so wanted just a small, single burner with a plate and grill section…in red! As I was perusing the perfect one for my needs, the mother-in-law…who was paying for it…kept dragging me around to all these unnecessarily large, grey models insisting that they were what I needed. I won that battle – a rare occurrence – and it has, so far, served me well.

For those who have not as yet discovered the world of gourmet barbequing, of aromatic rubs and spicy pastes, gourmet sausages and butcher-prepared treats…we are forever changing the face of the good old fashioned Aussie barbecue. And I give thanks

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Communities

Article, HIV/AIDS

Communities, like many other things in life, tend to swap and change as you go through life, get older, change circumstances and a myriad of other reasons.

As a youngster growing up in the outskirts of Sydney in the 50’s and 60’s, communities were like safety zones in areas that were just starting to develop (like Sylvania, where I was born). Everybody kept and eye on everybody else, and you often, to a large extent, lived as much in your neighbours home as you did your own. People were alwayts available for a chat, baking was shared around the neighbourhood, everyone knew your dog, and you knew everybodies name. Religion, whether you just practised to be ‘part of” the community (as my parents did) or for actual reasons of belief didn’t seem to really matter. When there was a birth or a marriage, everyone came to visit and join in. When somebody died, everybody mourned. It was close and nurturing. However, it had its drawbacks. Perhaps everybody knew a little TOO much about everybody else. When my mother deserted the family home, I remember not so much what was said as what wasn’t said – as if it had been expected.

My next community was boarding school – very Catholic, and I have to say very fulfilling. I had a large circle of close friends as I had through most of my school life, people who respected me and wanted to know my opinions. However, the wide divide between city boys and country boys (it was an agricultural college) became evident when I left school, and found that I didn’t continue contact with any of them.

I seemed to move from that to a very hectic ‘straight’ community after leaving school. Again, it was a large group of friends who I socialised with pretty well every weekend. We dined out, drank way too much, went to far too many concerts, and were heavily involved in each others lives – again, not necessarily a good thing. When I made a large move from a local suburb to another in a distant state, the friendships just seemed to drift away. I guess the glue that held the group together wasn’t all that strong after all.

Moving into the gay community was a big leap for me, and also one of the strongest of the communities I have lived in, and in some sense it still has an influence on my life, though not as strongly as in the 80’s and 90’s. Let’s face it – I lived ‘gay’. I drank in gay pubs (way too much), danced in gay nightclubs (way way too much), read gay media, shopped in gay shops, went to gay doctors and solicitors, lived for Mardi Gras and Sleaze Ball, and had lots and lots and lots of gay sex (never too much!). Life in the ghetto was just one big ‘gay’. Even the advent of HIV didn’t deminish the gayness of life, though with becoming infected with HIV I did sort iof find my loyalities divided between the gay and the HIV communities. And whether we like to admit it or not, they were separate, and if you were HIV+ it was hard not to hang out with others in the same boat as you were, as in many respects, they were out support group, our sources of information and, in far too many circumstances, people to mourn with. Yet despite the cameradie that came from within that community I never really felt that I clicked into it like many others. I loved my life being centred around ‘gay’, but didn’t quite feel the same affinity with ‘HIV’. I tried joining groups and organisations but really realised that I never wanted to be information-driven as far as HIV went. I didn’t want it to be a central component of my life, something to hide behind when I didn’t have an answer to ‘why is this happening, or why is that happening’. Even after a debilitating and life-threatening run-in with AIDS I didn’twant to get drawn too far into HIV’s mbrace. I went through all the steps involved to recover from it – then just moved on and sort of left it behind. Yes, perhaps I do involve myself in that I do write about HIV, but I always try to put it in the background to what I do, never in the forefront.

Recently, we moved again (I had a partner in tow). I have pretty well also moved away from ‘gay’ and probably have as many straight friends these days as gay, if not more. Life evolves. It is about two month’s since we moved to Ashgrove, and if we were ever to wonder just how well integrated we had become within this community, last Saturday probably dispelled any fear we may have had. It started with a chat over the back fence about the garden with our neighbours, and a co-joint decision to work from both sides of the fence to repair our overgrown and neglected yard. We then got tied into a lengthy concersation with some other dog owners at the off-leash dog park. These people live in the next suburb, and we get along very well with them so a friendship will probably develop. The girls in the local cafe know us as Saturday regulars and make us our coffee’s without us ordering, and chat to us as they go about their work. The owner iof a local store drops in for his coffee, and inquires how my recent purchases are going, to be followed by the manager and a staff member from our gym who stops in for a chat about his recent holiday. I have to say that all this chatting and laughing made me feel very cosy, and I realised just how much we were settling into our new community, and had been accepted by all those who had been members for some time. This really is what community is about. People getting along, interacting with each other and helping to make everybodies else’s lives just that little more pleasant. I’m positive that everybody knows we are gay – it is pretty obvious – but no one gives a damn. They are not as nosey as my first community, and I think I would like it left that way.

Tim Alderman
Copyright 2014

  

Daily (Or When The Mood Takes Me) Gripe: Messages From the Lord

Article

It is no secret amongst my atheist, agnostic, no-religious-tag friends…who are many…that I intensely dislike religion! Loathe it! You only have to look at what is happening in the Middle-East right this moment to start to understand why I have no belief in God. Oppression, murder, hate, abuse, destruction, mind-control, misery are some of the words I use to describe religion.

In my opinion, never has a bigger con-job been fostered on the world than religion. How we, as supposedly thinking and evaluating humans, allowed this to happen is, at times, beyond me. Sorry, but St Peter standing at the pearly gates to allow you to wander down the streets of gold is pure fantasy in my books, let alone a guy in a red body suit accessorised with horns and pitchfork turning up the flames and poking everyone in the bum. Don’t even start me on the twelve virgins!

Indo not deny the existence of Jesus. He is a historical fact, and mentioned in Flavius Josephus’s “History of the Jews”. However, virgin births, holy spirits, feeding 5,000 with a loaf of bread and a fish, changing water into wine, walking on water, rising from the dead and shooting up into heaven – well…..it just doesn’t hack it in my book! If he was anything, he’d be a Jewish radical who had a fanatical following, got under the skin of the Roman oppressors, and they crucified him to shut him up.

YAnd all these people who love to quote the bible – which one, people! It has been chopped and changed so many times by so many religions that the original tales would be lost in history.

So, has religion been absent from my life? Not by a long shot. My father was Catholic (non-practicing), and my mother was a Methodist (non-practicing). I was christened Congregational (now absorbed into the Uniting Church), though basically left to my own devices. I was never influenced to join any of the three. In 1968 I converted to Catholicism due to attending a Catholic boarding school. Even after that I still questioned the validity of much that I was instructed to believe. Mind you, conversion was very much influenced by ritual, custom, colour and movement. I encountered molestation by the Marist Brothers…not personally, though observed it going on….and eventually saw the priest who baptised me arrested for molesting his altar boys. I spent time in an enclosed monastery, and found a world of control and megalomania. This was the final straw for me.

Ever since, I have been anti-religion. Do I respect any religion and any religious leader? Yes! Buddhism and the Dalai Lama. That is it! A religion that keeps to itself, doesn’t promote or door-knock, doesn’t hate or discriminate. If you become a Buddhist you are free to mould the religion to suit your own path. That is how they should ALL be. Unfortunately the rest are nowhere near it.

So you can imagine how my hackles rose when Joi Russell sent me a friend request on Facebook recently. Being a member of the Starts At 60 group on Facebook, I checked out Joi’s profile – if I had looked harder alarm bells would have rung. Smiling face with hubby, older woman…I assumed someone from the group, so confirmed request. Wrong move! The next thing I know, the following message was received:

“My dearest Happy New Month. thanks so much for accepting my friend request and i am very sorry for intruding into your privacy. I am .Mrs Joi Russell a 53 years old Widow suffering from a long time cancer of the breast which is about claiming my life, My dear i have an important message from the Lord i tried sending you a message but it was not going through cos my facebook is acting up, so i will like you to please mail me on mrsjoirussell@—–.com so i can pass the good news of the lord to you.
Your swift response will be appreciated.
Mrs Joi Russell
mrsjoirussell@_____.com (will not include email address).”

Naturally, I also have a message for the Lord, so this was my reply to Joi:

“I thought you were someone else, but sad to hear about your cancer.

That’s funny that you have a message from the lord for me, as I have a message for him. Tell him it’s time to stop this fiasco called religion which is continuing to cause hatred and war and violent deaths in this world! You know, religion has caused more trouble and deaths than even war could manage. It has tried to force people to follow one religion, and if you thought differently, they killed you. Then we have the Crusades, and the Inquisition who revelled in torturing, then burning people alive. Then we have the wonderful missionaries who decided to force their religions on people in remote areas, thus destroying cultures that were thousands of years old. Religion burnt books, destroyed art and sculpture, killed scientists and academics who didn’t think their way. Then we have Henry VIII, who deciding to break from one religion, and make himself the head of a new one, destroyed churches and monasteries, putting monks who fed and sheltered the poor out on the street, thus making many peoples lives harder thsn they already were. We won’t even go into him chopping off the heads of his wives, and the chopping and changing between religions with following king and queen, and people being killed if they didn’t follow the religious trend decided by whoever was ruling. Then we have the Muslims charging around the world for hundreds of years killing anyone who believed differently to them. Then, of course, we have the fundamentalist and the Ku Klux Klan who hate everybody in the name of religion, and use hate speak and threats in an attempt to force their beliefs on others. Then we have immense wealth in certain churches, while all around them is poverty and misery, bishops and cardinals walking around dressed in silk, ermine, gold and precious stones. We can then throw an overwhelming amount of child abuse into the mix, and the cover-ups to try to get everyone to think it doesn’t happen. I could go on and on about the amount of hate, misery, war, destruction and death religion has caused. So my message to the lord is simple…FUCK OFF AND LEAVE US ALONE, YOU NON-EXISTENT ENTITY! ENOUGH US ENOUGH!”

That pretty well states my stand. Don’t get me wrong – I wish Joi well, and hope her remaining time is kind to her. If this delusion brings her some consolation, then she should hang onto it.

BUT – don’t ever send je religious crap and expect to escape without a caning. You will NEVER convert me. When we die, we become part of the Earth’s recycling process. That is my belief!

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Tim Alderman
Copyright 2014

Daily (or When the Mood Takes Me) Gripe: We Adore Thee O Facebook, and We Bless Thee

Article

Fucking not! Okay, okay….I admit it! I’m a recovering 24/7 Facebook addict! It’s the pretty colours, the hilarious memes (dubious description at best), the neverending Huffington Post posts from all the realms on earth (covering everything big and small, visible and invisible!, real and fantastic, truth and exaggeration!), my friends jaunty Status Updates – well, most of the time – and photos of their dogs or the occasional video of their dogs, or posts of cute puppies…ah, the puppies! Well, that was the start of it, in my innocent, virginal early days which seems decades ago now, but in reality is about 4 years, when the most inflammatory thing I would post was photos of the spring flowers blooming around the area I lived in. Oh how my innocence flew out the window, my virginity pierced and stolen by a lust for Facebook recognition.

Through Facebook I discovered friends that had disappeared out of my life 20 years ago – actually one of Facebooks endearing qualities – mainly upon joining the Lost Gay Sydney group. Friends I had partied with, danced with in Darlinghurst’s more salubrious establishments; people who had worked for me at the notorious “Numbers” Bookstore…or been customers to our…rear ‘club’…or both; by posting on Lost Gay Melbourne I reconnected with an ex-staff member from my Pellegrini days; two ex-partners (now three); a couple of friends of friends, who I share a sick sense of humour with; a total of – and this includes the ex-partners – six people I’ve slept with; and the most recent addition an old friend from Sydney who I encountered on a sex site – take a bow now, mate. Okay, the ladies are few and far between, and need to be very broad minded, but there are a few, definitely gay-friendly and a dark sense of the ridiculous in our lives. This leads us to…

The “Like” button, which became the most important thing in my life. A cute puppy “Like”; a weird story on HP “Like”; A normal story on HP “Like”; a Status Update “Like”; a funny meme “Like”; a corny meme “Like”; a stupid meme “Like”; someones death “Like”; a friend feeling depressed “Like”; someone going into hospital for open-heart surgery “Like”; anything to do with puppies “Like”; a broken romance “Like”; Lindsay Lohan going into rehab…again “Like”; sure you get the story now, as you have been there yourself. Didn’t matter whether the post was serious, frivolous, cute, funny, life-threatening, dumb,plain stupid, happy or sad…it got a “Like”. Took me quite a while to seize upon the fact that some things just weren’t “Like”, and though the finger hovered over it, common sense thumped in and said “no, that is not a “Like” moment….which leads us to…

Ah, “Comments”. The most staggeringly frustrating part of posts, be they your own, or someone elses. Typo’s aside – and someone should write a book on some of the ones I’ve done (the most notorious, and which put a girlfriend of mine into conniptions for weeks after was “Actions speak louder than wombats” thanks to auto correct) and speaking of auto-correct…why does it try to replace FUCK with FUNK (He’s a funkwit is just plain stupid, as is funknuckle) and ARSE with ASS (which, when I was at school, was a donkey) – the “Comments” column is a vipers nest writhing with poisonous fangs. I hate it when I do a great post, and nobody comments on it. What happens then, seeing as it may have been a late night post, thus lost amongst the jungle of overnight posts, is that I “Like” it again, then “Comment” on it so that it goes back to the top of the Newsfeed. Now, I’m quite the controversial guy, and enjoy knowing that certain posts will make hackles rise or blood boil. I know now what will just get “Likes” and what will get “Likes” and “Comments”. Cute puppies usually just get likes, but post a photo or video of MY dogs and there are heaps of “Likes” and “Comments” from others who also own and post about their dogs. Hunky guys get “Likes” and “Woofs” – not to be mistaken with posts about dogs, just to confuse the issue. They also get obscene comments, much to my delight! Political rants – of which I do hundreds every week, always get “Comments” because…well…we fucking hate our government. Many think it is futile, but I don’t. It is cathartic, and releases a lot if built up steam. Items also get “Shared” by ithers, so there is, in effect, a pyramid process going on, and who knows where that may end. There are occasional arguments, but I have a hard and fast rule – if I am not totally knowledgeable about the subject, or not totally up-to-date on it, let the argument go, and don’t make an arse (ass, for any American readers) of yourself. It helps keep friendships. Which brings us to…

The “Unfriend” button. Wow, that’s a heavy dude. I have, to date, only used it once. I get light-hearted posts from a page called BareBackers. In the gay scene, barebackers are guys who have condomless sex (I am NOT going to call it unsafe when we are talking about consenting adults, and that will probably start an argument now). Anyway, I reposted a rather funny meme from them, and a friend took offense that it was from a page titled BareBackers, and despite my telling him that the page wasn’t about pornography, and that FB didn’t give two hoots about how people practiced sex, they went and reported it to FB Admin, to no avail. At first I let it go, then about an hour later, after stewing about it for that long, I took action. In the “Comments”, under his gloating ones about reporting the page, I let fly about him telling me how to run my life (mind you, he wasn’t exactly backward at being forward himself to the point of rudeness, often offensively) and how he set himself up as judge and jury about things he knew nothing about. Then I “Unfriended” him! I felt bloody good after that, I can tell you. Now this brings us to the tumultuous world of…

“Friends Requests”. Don’t you just love the obscure ones “I love you long time” and you go to their profile and they have no other friends – not even family, no photos, and no posts. You think to yourself “How the fuck did they find me!” And shrug your shoulders, for after all…this is Facebook, with all its mysteries. And the ones where you scratch your head and try to figure out where they know you from – friend or foe! The ones from obscure people in equally obscure countries who don’t even speak English. Then the ones you do befriend, who then never interact with you. Weird! I always read about friends doing culls on their “Friends” lists, but it is never my problem as I have about 90 friends, and I know why they are all there. I have to confess I don’t get the Facebookers who “collect” friends, to the extent of hundreds or even thousands. My Newsfeed often goes largely unviewed, as the number of posts I get is so full-on that I just don’t have the time. Imagine adding feeds from hundreds of “Friends” on .top of that…no thanks. No wonder one never hears anything from these “Friends”…they are just overwhelmed by posts. Which brings us to…

Pokes! Has anyone ever managed to work out just what the fuck “Pokes” are all about! I know friends who have competitions with them, seeing how many people they can “Poke” in one sitting, or how many “Pokes” exchanges they can have in one day. Fuck! I return them when I get around to it, which isn’t very often. This now leads us to…

The dreaded “Newsfeed”…the one, singularly most frustrating parts of Facebook. Has anyone actually worked out a successful way to negotiate the “Newsfeed” yet! I bloody doubt it! Posts are all over the place. There is no way to search for something you want to review, no way to group posts from one person or organisation, page or group. Comments sometimes just disappear, or are delayed. I HATE that if you are calmly and methodically working your way through the “Newsfeed” and inadvertently touch the screen…and suddenly find yourself back at the fucking top of the page. Shits me big time! Then you have to scroll back down to find where you were. This, naturally, leads us to everyone’s favourite love-to-hate-you

Facebook Admins. What fucking morons these people are! Sitting up there in some cyberspace viewing platform, picking us off like sitting pigeons for the most menial infractions of their childish thou-shalt-and-thou-shalt not rules and regulations. Kicking people off, or penalising them for being adults. Sorry FB, no one on my “Friends” list has kids that can be corrupted by any of my posts, no matter how obscene! This is how fascist they are – I posted a video of my two dogs playing with a neighbours dog a couple of weeks ago, and tagged a “Friend” in it. The next thing I knew…the video had gone, to be replaced by a message that I may not have had the copyright owners permission to post the video…my video…of my dogs! I then had to fill out a form to say the video was mine to get it reinstated. Unbelievable! Seems you can run scams, piggyback profiles, hijack profiles, rip people off left right and centre…but don’t post the wrong thing! Which finally leads us to…

Just enjoying Facebook for what it is. Don’t try to analyse it. Don’t take it too seriously. Yes, there are a lot more important things in life, but we all need a break and a bit of fun in our day.

So, how did I cure my addiction? I didn’t! The novelty ran out eventually, which cut it back substantially. I enjoy it over breakfast, or a cup of coffee. And that is just as it should be…maybe. And don’t forget…

The Facebook Mental Asylum is only a post away.

Lol

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Tim Alderman
Copyright May 2014

Newly Discovered First Articles

Article, Gay Interest

We are currently in the process of moving, a dreaded task at the best of times, though this time not just moving but downsizing as well. Part of the downsizing process has been to go through crates of papers and magazines that have been dragged from home to home over the years and remain untouched. Not only has it been a real trip down memory lane with long-forgotten cuttings, cards, newsletters, historic booklets and a plethora of other bric-a-brac but a treasure trove as well, with the unearthing of the first two pieces of writing I had ever done in all their type-writer glory. In fact, I can date them to the turn of the 80s by them being done on a typewriter. Yeah, they are a little bit too adjectival, a bit melodramatic, really badly punctuated but in essence very good pieces of writing – said in all modesty…not!

So, I present here for your perusal and enjoyment both pieces of writing. I have resisted a strong temptation to edit them so you are getting both pieces in their original text. To put them in context, they were written within two years of my coming out, in all the naivety of a young gay man who thinks you should meet the man of your dreams five minutes after falling out of the closet, and who upon meeting supposed man finds that love is not as perfect as we would like it to be. They were evidently very serious issues to me back then, and written in an instant of melancholy, though now they just make me smile. I hope you both enjoy and empathise with a 26-year-old me.

Gay Blues (Where is the Love?)

It’s now night. God, sometimes I hate the night. In the silence and darkness of night, melancholia creeps up on, and overtakes one, with a speed that leaves one stunned with its depression. It is at the peak of this creeping melancholia that I find myself detesting being gay. No, it’s not the actual fact of being gay. That’s the way I am, and that fact was sorted out and accepted many years ago. Tonight it’s the gay lifestyle I detest. Being lonely and unloved, to express these feelings to another, would seem self pitying. Yet they are so much a part of our lifestyle that we tend to accept them without questioning why.

I lie in bed and reflect on all my years since “coming out” – in itself a detestable expression – and reflect on all the faces that have been – however temporary – part of my life, all the bodies that have been caressed and loved by my hands, the number of lips that have been kissed, the eyes that have been gazed into intimately or otherwise, all the sex that has been given and taken. So very many faces. So very many nameless faces. Sex in my bed, their bed, bar pick-ups, party embraces, brief encounters in bathrooms (and any other room), on beaches, front and back seats of cars, gropings on dance floors, sauna cubicles, suggestive movement when body briefly touches body. Sex wherever and whenever it could be obtained. Brief, fervent, hot, sweaty, passionate, cold, painful, given, taken, loved, hated sex. Love …the seemingly taboo word. Spoken in the night and forgotten in the morning. Spoken in haste and forgotten. Promised but not given. Wanted but not received. We all seem to be running from that one, ultimate, total commitment. We run for to admit that we can love, that we are totally capable of loving, is to deny ourselves another face, another body, another brief encounter with sex. This fear is not something I share alone. God, how desperately we want it. How we want to be loved, just once, for a day, a week, a month, a year or a lifetime. How we long for it to be spoken in the intimacy of darkest night. How we long to be held and embraced for more than just the orgasm. Bodies truly loving bodies for more than just quick sex, to be covered and smothered by that one simple human need and emotion. Maybe I live a silly gay fantasy. Perhaps we have all been conned by romantic novels, movies, and friends who say they have found love with another. Perhaps it is all just one big gay fantasy. People have told me it is so! But just for tonight, just for this one single moment in time, I would willingly give all I have to hear someone say those taboo words, even to have it whispered – I love you!

And the reasons. Are there reasons? Does the answer lie in deliberately alienating ourselves from love? Have we reached such a stage of self-deceit that we actually confuse sex for love? Are we so scared of the passing years , the balding head, the greying hair, the ravages of time on face and body, that we require the constant parade of bodies so that we can reassure ourselves that time is really not passing us by? Can we be so like the squirrel who puts away his requirements for the coming winter? Do we consider ourselves so vastly remote from the heterosexual world that we deny ourselves this one basic emotion to prove how different we really are? Have we allowed ourselves to be forced into a position in society where to be gay means not to love? Are we so full of self-love that we have forgotten how to give ourselves to another? Or do we just deny its existence because we are so scared of it! For love means a constant commitment, a constant giving, constant attention, and a constant flow of emotion to another person. Are these answers? Heaven help us, can ANYBODY give me an answer. To me, a future without love is too much to bear even thinking about. Yes!! At this moment I detest being gay. At this moment I feel the ache, the knowledge that something that should be there is missing. I reach out and touch nothing. Does being gay mean being a person who cannot love, who cannot feel, who does not care? Another pound of flesh leaning on the bar waiting for the nights pick-up?

And the bars and saunas. What a love/hate relationship we have. We don’t want to go, but where else can we go! And you lean against the bar with your drink and cigarette, and allow your eyes to wander around. And you see a hundred replicas of yourself. Everybody hunting, looking for that brief encounter for the night. Thinking – maybe this time – just as they have thought it a thousand times before. And those that bother to look only see the facade! They don’t want to see the loneliness, the longing, the wanting. And you see the empty, hopeful eyes of the hunted, seeing less than they should, and wanting to see more than they can. For are not the hunters lonely too? Are they not thinking – maybe tonight? Are the hunters not also hunted? Hunters and hunted are both trapped in the inescapable fear of being left without love. God help me, there are so many lonely people! So very many lonely people! We are all lonely people searching! Searching! Constantly searching! Searching for what? If we are lucky, and we manage to find it, then we know what the search was. But for most of us, we really don’t know, and chances are it has passed us by anyway. Having let it go, will we recognise it when it comes around again? Or will it come around again!

The room is lightening now. The morning will dissipate the fears. And as for me? As for you? Tomorrow night will find us back in the bars. Once again we will search the eyes of the hunters and think – maybe tonight. Yes, we still have tomorrow night. Perhaps then we will find love. And if we don’t find it tomorrow night? How about the night after, or the night after that, or….

Bob Phillips (Timothy James Alderman)
Copyright 1982

My clone yesrs, living in West Brunswick, Melboyrne.
Writer in 1981

SECOND STORY TO FOLLOW.